Pity the Child
by DarkHeartInTheSky
Summary: Castiel always had a crack in his chassis. Drabble. S4ep20


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It was a pity, Zachariah thought, frowning. The poor child was so hopelessly lost and confused, so strayed off the path of the mission. It wasn't entirely his fault, either. It was no secret that Castiel suffered from some sort of primal retardation. Naomi preferred to call it "a crack in his chassis" but Zachariah knew it was worse than just that. Every angel in Heaven knew of Castiel and his incessant devotion to those hairless apes that walked the Earth. A devotion that surpassed any connection he held with his brothers and sisters.

And it wasn't just a recent devotion, either. Castiel had always found a way to escape his garrison's supervisors and walk Earth, mingling with those hairless apes, befriending them, for centuries. Ever since the little bugger could fly, he'd been flying off to Earth. Even through all the corrections Castiel had suffered through, it was never enough. Every time his memory was wiped, his excursions and friendships erased from his memory and existence, Castiel would again run off the Earth and begin the cycle anew.

Father messed up with Castiel. That's why He left. He did something wrong when He created Castiel and He was so ashamed of the poor, retarded fledgling that was made by His hand that He left.

It wasn't Castiel's fault, though. Zachariah could not blame him that. It was simply how he was. Castiel was a good soldier. Marvelous, in fact. And intelligent—the smartest in the entire garrison, if not Heaven itself. And he was even obedient.

Except for when those hairless apes got involved.

It always came back to the hairless apes. Somehow they always managed to turn Castiel against his own brothers and sisters; they twisted him and corrupted him and pleaded with him to turn his back on Heaven and to join them in their pitiful, flea-bitten existence. And Castiel always did.

The corrections helped, if only for a bit. They made Castiel into a fearsome warrior of God once more. And if he once again turned coat to join those pitiful hairless apes, all they had to do was sweep him back up in Heaven once more and proceed with more corrections.

Though the number of corrections had significantly increased in just this year alone. Normally Castiel only required one correction every few years, but this year alone the poor child had three! And what a rotten time for his retardation to grow. The Apocalypse was just across the horizon and Castiel was too large an asset to lose.

They never should have chosen Castiel to lay siege to Hell. He was the best choice for it, certainly; the strongest, the smartest and the most willingly to undergo the task. But it should not have been him. The Hellfire clearly exasperated his condition. Zachariah should have known from the beginning, when the Righteous man was raised and Castiel returned to Heaven, wings burned, terribly incoherent, that they had made a mistake. The poor child had been stuck in a loop of "Dean Winchester is saved!", proclaiming it loudly towards the sky and smiling so large his grace burned, for three days. For three days no angel had been able to get him to say anything different, or to look at them. His eyes stayed locked onto the sky, the smile never left, despite the immense pain he was in with his burned wings.

Dean Winchester is saved! Dean Winchester is saved! Dean Winchester is saved!

And then, after three days, the poor child managed to get away—how he got away with the condition of his wings Zachariah could never fathom; but it only proved his point of what a valuable asset Castiel was. Even with wings burned and permanently damaged, his fought.

After three days and with burned wings, Castiel escaped Heaven and sought Earth to seek Dean Winchester.

Zachariah wished he knew who was supposed to be watching Castiel that moment the poor child got away. Dean Winchester was the sort of hairless ape Castiel needed to be kept away from. Hedonistic, godless. It mattered not if he was the Righteous man. Worst of all, he liked Castiel. And Castiel liked him. His influence on Castiel had been immediate. With each interaction, Zachariah could slowly feel Castiel slipping from his grasp. Castiel was Falling and he was Falling fast; and the Apocalypse was beginning and Heaven needed Castiel. Castiel could not Fall and most certainly not Fall for a hairless ape.

Castiel needed to be managed. His retardation had not yet become a handicap to their cause and Zachariah would ensure it never did, especially now of all times.

So he could ignore Castiel's struggles against his bonds, his pleas of desperation as Zachariah's hand came closer with the drill. If Castiel's eyes widened in fear, he pretended not to notice as he held the child's head back. And the screams didn't even matter because they were soon lost in the drone of the drill.

It was the mission that mattered. The mission came first. Castiel simply needed to be reminded.

And so when Castiel feel back into his loop of "Dean Winchester is saved!" as blood pooled from his eyes and nose, his struggles ceasing, Zachariah merely frowned and pressed the drill in deeper.

What a pity.


End file.
